The Life of Ryan
by UnPerfectStorm16
Summary: The story of Ryan, a boy who is far from normal. Struggling with his homosexuality and the abuse from bullys at school and his own mother, may prove to Ryan that he is special, in more ways than one.
1. Ryan's Journal

**First Entry**

**October 21st, 2006**

Dear Mother,

I'm writing this with the confidence that I would not normally have, because I know you'll never see it. Cowardly I know, but it's the only way I can get everything off my chest without getting harmed. I used to think when I was little that you just had a hard time showing your love for me, expressing your emotions. But as the years went by, I've come to the conclusion; that you never loved me at all.

I still wonder every night, as I'm lying in bed...what I did to deserve your hatred; Mother. What did I do? All I did was love you, do everything you ever asked; and my thanks was being beaten. Do you know what it feels like to have somebody who's supposed to love you unconditionally, and forever; tell you how worthless you are? How nobody could ever love you, or even stomach to touch you? Well I do, and it hurts. You tell me all the time how you're so repulsed by me that you can't even stand to hug or kiss me, it hurts.

I can't dwell on that right now, because there are a lot of questions I don't have the answer to. Like why was I born? Why am I stuck with you for a mother? Why don't I have any friends? Why am I gay? Why is it that sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror, I want to scream till I have no voice left? Well I have an answer for that last one; it's probably because a habit due to the years of you yelling at me.

The whole reason for starting these entries is because of today. Today was my birthday, an anniversary for my birth, HA. You didn't even remember, and even if you did; you wouldn't have seen it as an occasion to celebrate. No. I spent my entire birthday crying, and cleaning the house for you; while you were out all day. Then when you came home and saw me crying, you laughed at me. What was it that you called me, Mother? A _pussy_? Yes I believe so. Then you expressed how ashamed you were at having a pussy for a son, and you proceeded to burn me with your cigarette. I now have a burn on my arm.

Except the pain of the burn doesn't hurt me, nor did it. I can cope with pain; I've been dealing with it for years. I feel empty inside, deprived. The burn didn't hurt as much as you forgetting my birthday. Sometimes I feel so damn foolish; because of how conflicted you make me feel. Sometimes I hate you so much I wish you would just die, or fade away. Yet deep down I know I still love you, and it kills me. It kills me that I still love somebody so much, who has nothing but hatred toward me.

Is it because dad left? Is it because I'm ugly? Why do you hate me Mother? Why am I not worthy of your love?

_-Ryan-_

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><p><strong>Second Entry<strong>

**January 21st, 2007**

Dear Woman Who Gave Birth to Me,

I don't feel much quite like referring to you as my mother at this moment, because you don't act like one; at least not like the mothers I see. The mothers I see are the ones who pick up their kids from school. The ones who will drop everything they are doing to pick up their sick child, or even to run in and drop off lunch money when it is forgotten; sadly I wasn't blessed with such good luck.

Today, I find it especially hard to give you such a title, after the events that took place yesterday. It started out as a nice day, I actually felt good for once...like I was something, somebody; important. I got dressed, and went to school. There was a spelling test today, one that I knew I would pass, because I was good at the subject at hand.

I passed the test, with a 99; highest grade in my class. The rest of the school day, I was treated...amazingly. The kids didn't pick on me as usual, instead they looked to me as intelligent; and I began to finally believe I was...even with your constant obvious doubt of that.  
>What were those words again?<p>

_Ignorant, Stupid, Idiotic, Retarded._

I came home to show you, and never had I been more proud of myself. I thought finally that maybe you would have looked at me in a different light, maybe see that I was deserving of some love; even a tiny bit of affection. I was so _stupid_, and so wrong. I woke you up; I didn't think there was a problem with it. I mean after all, you had work at 4:00...so what was the big deal of me waking you up at 3:20? Excitedly I showed you the paper, in which me, your son, had achieved something that nobody else in his class could.

You beat me. Beat isn't the right word here, you ravaged me. I never felt more pain in my life, than in that exact moment. It ended with me crying myself to sleep, and you leaving. I didn't see you for that whole day, but when I finally woke up, I had a sharp pain in my left arm; it was sprained. I didn't know what to do; I went to the hospital and told them that I got into a fight with a kid. They bought it.

They mended me up, and I came back home. I got home around 1:00 AM and you still weren't home. Your work got out at 10:30, so where were you? Where was my mother? Where was the woman who was supposed to tell me that everything would be alright? That she was sorry and it would never happen again? I didn't even get that anymore. The "_apologies_" and the "_it will never happen again_" stopped happening five years ago.

Now? I don't get any time with you, unless you're hitting me. I'm your favorite punching bag, Mother. Hit me until your pain fades away.

-_Ryan_-

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><p><strong>Third Entry<strong>

**February 14****th****, 2007**

Dear Mother,

I'm sorry for being born. I feel as though I'm a constant burden to you, and for that I apologize. Today at school, was maybe one of the worst days of my life, it cemented the fact that I am a disgusting creature that nobody could ever hope to love. Today was Valentine's Day, usually one that makes me feel all warm inside. The thought that there's a spectral baby flying around shooting people with arrows is silly, but the thought that everybody has a chance to fall in love and be happy with another person, is far from that in my mind. I just wish that somebody would tell me that they love me, that I'm special. Give me a tiny bit of hope that maybe I'm worth something to them, that I'm important. I want somebody to rush at me, pick me up in their arms, and never let me go. But that will never happen, you've seen to that personally.

It's dumb to expect anybody to fall in love with me, with the same three outfits I wear every week full of holes. Also quite dumb to expect anybody to find me attractive with the bruising and scratching across my face. Which by the way, a teacher did question (finally?) about why I come to school looking so tattered. No, don't worry. I didn't tell her anything, except that I live in a bad neighborhood and get into fights constantly. So don't worry, your perfect reputation in the community is safe. Hurry!  
>I wish that coming home could protect me from the pain I feel in school everyday, but it's like a double-edged sword. I get beaten up in school, and I get beaten up at home. Maybe some people are just meant to be beaten…maybe some people just attract others wanting to hurt them. Is it something that I've said or done? Maybe it's my face. All I know is, Mother, you should stop holding back when you beat me. If you go far enough, who knows, maybe then all of our problems will be solved.<p>

_-Ryan-_

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><p><strong>Fourth Entry<strong>

**March 1st, 2007**

Dear Mother,

I'll never leave your coffee on too long ever again. The beating I received was far worse than anything I could have imagined. I knew you like your coffee fresh, not burnt, yet stupidly I fell asleep, leaving your coffee to burn. You didn't do what I asked you to do last time, which was to kill me. No. You left me alive, controlling yourself so carefully like a doctor, choosing specifically what part of me to injure, so you could keep me in this agony. When using your hands wasn't good enough, you switched to a plank of wood, and then pressed the burner against my leg. It hurts to walk; my leg is in throbbing pain. I guess it truly is my fault, not just in your head. Maybe the fact that I do these kinds of things; leave your coffee on, make you the wrong dinner, scream and cry while you're beating me (trying to make you feel bad, you say) is why you can never love me. I wish I didn't do these kinds of things, but I'm only 15…I just want my mommy. I want you to love me and say you're sorry for the hitting. I want you to say April fools, that the beatings were only some sort of sick joke and that you've always loved me and were just messing around with me. I want you to be able to hug me without getting repulsed. What did I do mommy? What did I do?

_-Ryan-_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So here's the deal. This is an original story, one that I created over a year ago. It's about Ryan obviously, and he's a very interesting character. Timid, shy, and struggling for a normal life, even with others around him trying to bring him down. This story gets very graphic and sad, so I suggest caution when reading. It sucks that doesn't have a bracket for original work, but meh, who cares? I listed TV-show misc, because I might bring in some characters from "Supernatural" later on...but I won't explain why, it may come obvious to you. :P

So please stick with me, and I promise this story will be a roller-coaster of emotions.

P.S: I will be updating Chapter 1 (Ryan's Journal) as the story progresses, because he will be updating it as he goes through his life. So new chapters, and the editing of this one. Enjoy :)


	2. The Incident

**(2) The Incident**

_**(This will be written in a live-action format.**_

Caution: the story below may contain contents not suitable for everyone.)

**Monday, April 16th, 2007**

Darkness, followed by a piercing light. "Wake up!" a loud voice could be heard, it was female; yet familiar. "Wake up, you lazy bastard!" the voice called out yet again; except this time when it wasn't answered, a sharp pain could be felt across the face in its wake.

Ryan opened his eyes. His mother was standing over him, with the menacing look on her face that he had seen thousands of times before. "I'm up...I'm up" he said desperately, blinking to wake himself up better. His mother scowled at him, her dark brown eyes glared vividly at him, and she left his room; slamming the door on her way out.  
><em>"I guess if her mood this morning is any indication on how my day is going to be, then today is going to be a bad day..."<em> he thought to himself sadly, as he pulled himself out of bed, and gingerly felt his face. Going over to the mirror, he knew what the pain was that he had felt during his sleepy stupor. His mother, like many times before, had slapped him across the face. A nice bright red mark was slowly appearing.  
><em>"What a cruel sense of humor God has. Give me an abusive mother, yet make me easily bruised.."<em>

Ryan searched through his clothing pile, desperate to find something decent to wear for school. He mourned the fact that he only had four outfits to wear, and that he didn't have a dresser to organize them in. The kids at school seemed to tell that he had limited clothes, they made fun of him for it enough; he hated his mother for the torment he had to endure, both at home and at school. Grabbing a pair of boxers, socks, shirt, and jeans; he went into the bathroom and locked the door.  
><em>"I have to be quick"<em>he thought to himself as he ripped off his clothes and immediately got into the shower. He quickly washed his body and hair; soap and water, and then jumped out of the shower, all under ten minutes. He knew the price he would pay if he took any longer; his mother would beat him till he bled. It had happened before, so he knew it wasn't an idle threat. After he put his clothes on, he looked in the mirror; frowning.

_"I hate you so much..."_ he thought to himself, as he gazed at his reflection with everything but admiration. His jeans had a slight grass stain on them, and his shirt bore a tiny hole. _"The kids at school will definitely notice that I didn't get to wash these clothes..."_  
>He shrugged. What did it matter? No matter what, he would be picked on for sure. So what was the difference? Heading back into his room, he picked up his book bag and walked downstairs. He saw his mother sitting on the couch; a half empty bottle of <em>Jack Daniels<em>in her hand. Some people drank beer, others wine, but no; that was her poison of choice.

"Good bye mom..." Ryan said meekly, as he rushed out the door. He knew better than to go to her for a good bye hug or kiss; when she got drunk she got testy. Walking down the street, he checked his only possession; a battled old wristwatch.  
><em>7:20<em>, it read. _"Crap!"_ he thought to himself. _"I'm going to be late for school!"_ he thought angrily, as he began to sprint down the block. One of the reasons why he was in such excellent physical shape, is that he had to walk to and from school every day. His mother simply could not be bothered to take him, so as a result; Ryan walked the ten blocks to school. After quite a few minutes, he could see the school rising in the distance; as he ran up the hill that lead to it. _8:10_, the clock read. _"Oh no, only ten minutes till late bell!"_  
>He quickly sprinted toward the school, his already quick pace gaining speed. When he entered the school he took great care in dodging the huge crowd of boys in the hallway; they were his fear, his tormentors. Looking around, he attempted to slip around them; and enter his classroom.<br>"Hey...Ryyyaaaaannnnnn" a voice called out, and like a deer in headlights; he seized up. A boy was walking toward him; he could tell by the footsteps quickly approaching.  
><em>"Do I run...or stay?" <em>he thought to himself, trying to decide on his course of action. He knew that it was always worse if he ran away, so he decided to stay and endure it. "What do you want...?" he asked coldly, turning around; eyeing the boy that was walking toward him. It was the same kid that always messed with him, he would never forget that face like he would never forget his mother's face; after years of torture and bullying, some things just become engraved in your mind.

The boy had dirty blonde hair; it was short and keep in spikes. He had these piercing blue eyes that seemed to read into you, while holding behind everything. Ryan had admitted to himself a long time ago, that he DID find the boy attractive; but years of ridicule and torment had dulled that. "Aw come on, Ryan...can't I just greet my favorite fag?" he said with a smile; and the couple of boys who were with him, his friends, laughed.  
>Ryan's eyes narrowed. He hated <em>that word<em>, he did not like being called it. "Don't call me that" he said angrily.  
>The boys all laughed again at Ryan, and he shook his head. <em>"I always seem to provide them with so much entertainment.."<em> he thought to himself, as he turned and walked away.  
>"Where do you think you're going, fag?" the boy asked, as he rushed ahead and got in Ryan's way. Ryan tried to move past him, but he got in his way yet again.<br>"What do you want?" Ryan asked him desperately. "It's almost time for class and I'm going to be late, so leave me alone"  
>The kid got an angry look on his face. "Did you just give me an order?" he said, as he grabbed Ryan and slammed him into the locker. Both of the kid's hands were on Ryan's shoulders and he was pinned to the locker. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I don't like it. You better remember who's in charge at this school" the kid said, as he punched Ryan in the stomach.<p>

Ryan fell to his knees in pain, his hands clutched to his stomach. Looking up, he gave the boy eyes full of hatred. The boy smiled, as if this is what he wanted.  
>"That's more like it. I better not ever hear you get smart with me" he said, as he motioned to his friends. "Let's go before the teachers come out to see what's wrong. Let's leave the fag alone, for now..." he said, as the laughing group of friends followed him.<p>

Ryan got up, and brushed himself off. His jeans were now worse for wear, having accumulated dust from him being on the floor. Shrugging, he walked into his classroom, and to his dismay he was handed a detention slip for after school. This was bad, because when he was late home from school; his mother got testy. He was supposed to wake her up for work, and have dinner ready. How could he do that, when he had to spend a extra hour at school? The rest of the school day was a blur, it seemed to go by so fast.

It was almost as if the whole day was a dream, he ignored the unimportant parts and his mind skipped right through to the last class. He had to serve detention. Why was the detention so bad? If it wasn't the fact that he would get home too late and his mother would beat him, it was the fact that his tormentor; the boy who made it his life goal to bully Ryan, Aaron; was in the detention also. "Aaron, stop it!" he said annoyed. Aaron was flicking him with scraps of paper, and kicking his feet. Ryan hated his luck, because it just so happens that the guy was seated by the teacher behind him.  
>"Why don't you make me, fag?" Aaron said under his breath, so the teacher wouldn't overhear. Ryan breathed in and out deeply, he couldn't allow this kid to get to him; he simply wouldn't. After all, detention was only a few more minutes for him (his offense being tardiness, which only was 20 minutes) his tormentor would have to stay for an extra five minutes; more than enough time for Ryan to have left the school already.<p>

"Ryan can you come up to the front, please?" the teacher said, causing Ryan to grab his bag and immediately dash up to the front. "Could you please go to the gym and deliver this note to Mr. Borlyn, the Gym Teacher?" she asked nicely. "You can go home after you're done..." she said.

Ryan nodded, and taking the note he left the classroom quickly, not before sticking his tongue out at Aaron. Ryan knew that he would pay for it later, but at the moment he didn't care. He was tired of being everybody's victim; tired of being picked on all the time. He walked to the gym; as he was walking he checked his clock. _4:10_, it read.  
><em>"Darn. I won't be home in time. My mother is going to kill me..."<em>

Walking inside the gymnasium, he looked around. Everybody was gone, gone home because it was the end of the school day. The gym echoed as he walked on, the creaking of the floor seemed to radiate around him eerily. He went to the gym teacher's office and looked inside the door; nobody was there, the lights were off. _"He must have went home.."_ he thought, as he slipped the letter into the crack under the door.  
><em>"Well time for me to go home.."<em>he thought, but then frowned. He was in the gymnasium, so he might as well clear out his locker there. He had clothes in it that needed to be washed, and since he had gym tomorrow, he thought it would be best to take them home then.

Ryan walked into the boy's locker room, he called out a meek "hello?" questioningly asking if anybody was there, but there wasn't. It was a Monday, the janitors went home early. He didn't mind though, he felt it would be best if he didn't get reprimanded for being so late after school. After what seemed like a long time (even though it was only fifteen minutes) Ryan had the entire contents of his locker, into his book bag. Throwing it over his shoulder, he walked out of the locker room.  
>"Hey!" Ryan exclaimed, as he bumped into somebody on the way out of the locker room. To his dismay, it was Aaron; who pushed him back inside the locker room. "You think you're really funny don't you?" Aaron said angrily, as Ryan nervously dropped his bag onto the floor.<br>"What are you talking about..." he said softly, innocently. He figured that feigning ignorance would be best, to avoid a situation.

"You know what I'm talking about fag. You think you're really funny sticking your tongue out at me. What did I tell you about showing respect? Guess I'm going to have to teach you a lesson" Aaron said, as he began to come at Ryan.  
>"What are you doing?" he asked Aaron, moving back slowly, till his back came to rest against a locker.<br>Aaron clenched his fists as he walked forward. "I'm going to show you what happens when you try and be a smart ass" he said, as he grabbed Ryan by the shirt, and then slammed him back into the locker.  
>Ryan was angry. He had to go home, he didn't have time for some childish bullying. If he didn't get home in time, which he had a slight chance of actually being there before his mother woke up, then he wouldn't get beaten. He refused to let Aaron, this jerk, ruin his life.<br>"Leave me alone!" Ryan shouted, as he threw his fist forward, it connecting with the side of Aaron's face. Ryan opened his mouth in shock, as Aaron fell onto the floor.

Aaron took his hand and brushed where Ryan had hit him, it was beginning to turn red. "You're dead now" he said as he got off the ground. Ryan tried to back up but he couldn't, Aaron's fist connected with his cheek, and again with his shoulder. He was thrown off balance and fell to the ground.  
>As Aaron came closer to him, Ryan etched away from him. Aaron's backpack was on the floor, his chance. Ryan edged toward the backpack, and threw it at Aaron. His aim was a bit off, and the backpack hit the wall instead, it's contents going everywhere. Both Ryan and Aaron's eyes went wide in shock, as the contents spilled along the floor.<br>_"What.. the.."_ was all Ryan could think, as he saw what Aaron was keeping in his book bag. There were pornographic magazines, except not ones of girls and guys, they had only the latter.  
>Aaron's face went red in anger and in embarrassment. "You didn't see anything!" he said angrily, as he went down near Ryan and grabbed him by the shirt. "You didn't see anything!"<br>Ryan shook his head. "Aaron...let's talk about this" he said, trying to be friendly, trying to find some kind of common ground.  
>"No. There's nothing to talk about. You didn't see anything. Even if you tell people, they wouldn't believe you. You're nobody in this school; you get poor grades, you wear the same outfits over and over again; you come late all the time. Nobody will believe anything you say" Aaron said scathingly, then he paused for a second as an idea seemed to form in his head.<p>

"Can I go now?" Ryan asked desperately, his eyes on the clock. He was already late, but maybe; just maybe his mother would take it easy on him. Aaron shook his head, as he got up and locked the door. "You're not going anywhere" he said, as he walked back towards Ryan.  
>"Aaron what are you talking about...what do you mean?" Ryan asked him, fear etched in his face. Aaron smiled darkly, as he got down on his knees, his face pressed near Ryan's. "I've already told you. You're just some loser, a fag. Nobody will believe <em>anything<em> you say. My word is worth ten times as much as yours is...so I'm going to have a little bit of fun" Aaron said matter-of-factly. Before Ryan could question him further, Aaron's fist hit the side of his face yet again, and he was pushed backwards. He looked up at Aaron, the kid was taking off his belt; something wasn't right.  
>"What the hell!" Ryan exclaimed. He tried to get up, but Aaron was ultimately stronger. He forced Ryan down harder. Once his own pants were off, he started working on Ryan's.<br>"What are you doing Aaron! Stop playing around!"  
>Aaron had no words for him, only a look in his eye; which clearly showed his intentions. The intention shown in his eyes had nothing to do with stopping. Despite Ryan's protests, Aaron pulled down his own boxers and ripped off Ryan's.<p>

Aaron flipped Ryan over onto his back, and pressed his face down into a few towels that were on the floor. The smell of floral detergent that lingered on them; gagged Ryan's nostrils almost suffocating him. He begged and begged, but there was no reaching Aaron now, not when he was going to get something that he was denied for so long.  
>Tears rolled down Ryan's face as Aaron plunged into him. He felt a sharp pain, which seemed to burn his insides. The whole thing seemed go on for hours. Ryan's face was pushed down harder and harder. He could only see the white of the towels; then he saw nothing but darkness, passing out from the pain.<p>

Ryan woke a few hours later. Aaron was gone; as were the book bag and it's contents. He was naked; his mind couldn't make sense of what had happened. Reaching down, he felt blood on his backside, as well as blood on the corner of his mouth. Tears fell onto the floor; as Ryan broke into silent sobs.  
><em>"Why did this happen..."<em>he thought to himself bitterly. Angrily. He looked around for his clothes, something to put on...he just knew he wanted to be clothed right now. He found his boxers, after a few minutes of searching. They were tattered, ruined. He couldn't put them on. He had to settle for just his pants and shirt on. Even though they were just two pieces of clothing, they made him feel something that he didn't feel right now; safe and secure.

Getting up, Ryan walked gingerly to the shower room. He was sore, it hurt to walk; on further inspection he had bruises on his thighs and legs, the areas on which he was held down. He went to the shower and turned it on; he made it lukewarm. Too hot and it would have burned, too cold and it would have been uncomfortable. Ryan sat down and allowed the shower to pour down onto his forehead, as he sat in the fetal position.

All he could think about is:  
><em>"Why me"<em>  
><em>"What did I do to deserve this?"<em>

The one thing that angered him more than just being violated; was that his first time was stolen from him by a jerk. He mourned the loss of his virginity, because it had always been something that he wanted to give away to his true love, to somebody special. Now the only thing he would have to remember his first time by, was the pain and the dried blood that decorated his lower half. The falling drops of water, masked the tears that fell from his eyes. He fell asleep under the shower running, thinking nothing but that he was glad he was late.  
><em>"Because maybe, just maybe...Mother will actually kill me this time..."<em>

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Alright. This chapter may have been a little tough/graphic, but it was all important. I feel really bad for Ryan, and it was very hard to write. I cried a little bit =(

I hope you enjoyed it for the sake of the writing, not for what happened.

Love you readers 3


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